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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27293725">Fade into Static</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeannedarcprice/pseuds/jeannedarcprice'>jeannedarcprice</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>When the Flames Settle [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Banter, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Illustrated Fic, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 18:20:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,194</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27293725</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeannedarcprice/pseuds/jeannedarcprice</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Three days before they gave in to each other in <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23757460"><i>When the Flames Settle</i></a>, one awkward night on the couch watching TV let the idea settle in.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Carlos Oliveira &amp; Jill Valentine, Carlos Oliveira/Jill Valentine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>When the Flames Settle [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1742605</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Fade into Static</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/DownyDatura/gifts">DownyDatura</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/DownyDatura">downydatura</a>, who told me about her idea for this scene and drew a gorgeous picture to go with. Happy Birthmonth!<br/>I’ve also worked a few of your ideas into this. It’s honestly so interesting listening to you go down the insanely logical route! Hope you enjoy!</p><p>The scene that I describe with the acid bath boss fight – that literally happened in one of my play throughs, which is immortalised <a href="https://jeannedarcprice.tumblr.com/post/628811316448149504/the-moment-were-carlos-literally-saved-meagain">here</a>. I knew it had to become head canon for me, and it was so fun to work it into this fic!</p><p>Comments are always appreciated! &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>- <em>October 03, 09:27p.m. – Unity Creek Motel –</em></p><p>
  <em><br/>
 </em>
</p><p>    He'd watched on as she’d checked the doors and windows <em>again.</em> It was a bad habit of hers, even though it was totally logical and understandable. Sometimes it was like his presence didn’t even make her feel safe – like he hoped it would. The nights since Raccoon were taking their toll on both of them, but for her, he felt she'd been changed by them. He supposed this was the true woman behind the facade, not the feisty, strong and <em>angry</em> woman he’d encountered in that hell hole. Here, in the quiet of the motel room, she was chasing shadows, trying to secure herself against phantoms that would slip between door and window frames. A place where he was determined to be the last defence against them.</p><p>    She’d left the shower not long ago, the routine of double and triple securing those entry and exit points happening straight after. She was in a large loose t-shirt, no bra on – he couldn’t help but notice that – sweatpants and complimentary cardboard soled slippers. He watched her nervously as she shifted around, trying not to put a judgemental gaze on her actions. She stopped by the window, pulling the curtains aside and looking out into the back lot of the motel. Whatever she saw there didn’t set her on edge, and satisfied, she finally came over to him and sat down.</p><p>    There was a healthy distance between them on the sofa, but sometimes he felt like getting in closer, like if he dared to, he could make a comment that might lead to...</p><p>    Carlos looked down at the glass topped table in front of him, trying to distract himself from his thoughts by perusing its contents. Except there wasn’t much there to see – an ashtray, a notepad and pen with the motel name on it, his glass of water. The TV remote.</p><p>    The TV remote would do for now to dispel the awkwardness.</p><p>    He leant forward to retrieve it, feeling that awkwardness acutely. He wanted nothing more than to talk to her like they had before. In the heat of escaping Raccoon the words had run freely, going from hostility to mutual respect, to <em>flirting</em> and desperate, veiled good byes. There was a moment he’d been convinced that they’d both die, and in that moment he’d wanted to make a confession, even though he hadn’t know what it was.</p><p>    Since that wash of heat had vaporised Raccoon, since they’d made their lucky escape, his thoughts had been full of jumbled words and <em>feelings</em>. Feelings that didn’t make sense, words in Spanish that seemed to touch on what he wanted to say but didn’t know how to put into English. What were these things that stirred inside him? Why did she elicit such a response? He let the thoughts drop, willed his mind to go blank. Here, now, there was no point in trying to make sense of it all.</p><p>    The TV flickered into life at his bidding, and he heard her sigh as the picture came into focus. A news cycle was playing, for once something that wasn’t about Raccoon City. It was the channel they’d left it on when they’d last used it. He watched her three-quarter turned face as she blinked absently at the screen, her hair wet and combed, strands falling forward and brushing against the cuts on her cheek. They were slowly on their way to heal; the swelling having gone down already. He hadn’t noticed before, but he saw that her ears were pierced, and suddenly found himself wondering what earrings she’d wear if she was going out. If she’d ever go out with him.</p><p>    The bandage around her upper arm was just peeking out from the t-shirt sleeve. Sometimes when she spied him looking at it she’d hastily try to cover it up, like it was ugly, but what she didn’t know was that that ever-changing bandage was something that brought joy to his heart.</p><p>    “You wanna watch something else?”</p><p>    A long breath left her, like she had been holding the tension inside, trying to hide it behind watching the news report like it was something she <em>had</em> to do. “Yeah. There a movie on?”</p><p>    “This motel’s a little stingy. Not many free-to-view channels!” he huffed out a little laugh, watching to see if she’d react to it. She didn’t, but she did settle into the sofa as he started flicking, sinking backwards into the thinning backrest. It had clearly seen better days and was probably on its way out, but it was still comfortable. After parking his butt wherever was convenient in RC, he was just glad to have something soft to sit on again, and someone to sit next to.</p><p>    “Okay, this looks like the only option at the moment. You’d think it’d be too early for Halloween, but I know you Americans like celebrating all month long!”</p><p>    She couldn’t hold back a little snigger at that comment. “You got us.” Was that a hint of a smile on her face? “We can’t resist a good old Halloween, dressing up and pumpkin baskets. Hardware stores full of tasteless décor.”</p><p>    “Yeah, the strip mall was already full of it earlier.”</p><p>    He’d wanted to snatch a werewolf mask off the display and dick around in it, something to make her smile. But he’d noticed that she’d been avoiding those aisles, knowing deep down that she’d wanted to avoid any imagery of decay and blood, no matter how fake it was. How disheartening that was, that Halloween was probably ruined for her forever now, all because they’d survived their own bespoke horror movie not long ago.</p><p>    That cold reality hit him again. How were they here? Hiding out? Recuperating? When so much had been lost in that city? He’d been questioning himself about it for days now, and he was going insane with it. If it hadn’t been destroyed three days ago, would store owners be decorating their aisles with Halloween goods too? Would parents be stock-pilling candy and working on homemade costumes for their kids? He expelled a deep breath at that thought. He’d seen kids turned, ones that had been even more tenacious than their adult counterparts. Some of them who had been cannibalised by their own kind because they were smaller and weaker. He realised that he probably didn’t have the heart to see Halloween through either. If they were still in each other’s company at that point, maybe they’d shut themselves away and turn the lights off, whilst the streets filled with all manner of ghosts and ghouls and laughter that would sound terrible to them after all they’d experienced. Like the dead roaming the streets, full of hunger.</p><p>    He sat back himself, resisting the urge to move closer to her, placing his feet up on the coffee table like it was a footrest, socks staving off the chill of the room for now. It was some dumb-ass B-horror movie, an exploitative mess. Of course, they’d just turned it on when two teenagers were banging in a car, the occasional gratuitous shot of a pair of tits cut with the bloodshot and leering eyes of whatever<em> monster</em> was getting off on the thought of eating them. He felt like he’d been caught watching something naughty, like parents walking in on you, so he cleared his throat and retrieved his glass of water from the table, trying to catch a subtle glimpse of her as he shifted, pretended to get comfortable – because feeling comfortable he was not.</p><p>    He’d thought about it, several times, how easy it would be for them to just touch one another. They’d shared the bed in each motel they’d stayed in so far; she’d convinced him it was to save a few dollars, but they both knew it was because they needed company during the long nights full of nightmares. Yet they still kept their distance, waking up apart, a cold space in between them. His eyes glanced sideways. Just like there was a cold space between them now. He wanted to inch in, to feel her warmth, to make her warm.</p><p>    She was still so pale, covered in cuts and bruises just as much as he was. He didn’t know the true extent of it – he knew there were many more that he would never see, just as there were more on him that she wouldn’t either. But that was okay, just as long as they healed together. He gave up any pretence of feeling comfortable, instead deciding to bring that fact out in the open.</p><p>    “Would turn the channel over at this precise moment, wouldn’t I?”</p><p>    She huffed out a laugh, and there was a hint of a smile on her face. “Hey, it’s an unwritten rule in horror flicks. You have sex and you die. So, these two are ripe for the taking!”</p><p>    “I guess that’s why we survived, then.”</p><p>    He instantly regretted it as it came out of his mouth, his bowels dropping, the desire to get on his knees and beg for forgiveness overwhelming him. Except she turned to him, her face full of humour, that fed up smile of hers that he thought he could get used to if she wanted to keep him around. Because the shitty jokes weren’t ever going to stop.</p><p>    “Who says I didn’t have sex with someone during Raccoon?”</p><p>    He snorted. “So that’s what you were doing every single time I tried to hail you on the radio and you didn’t answer?”</p><p>    His smile was blinding, and she let her eyelids drop seductively, a barely-there smile tugging on her beautiful, full lips. “Maybe,” she teased. “I’d say the same thing about you. Maybe you were hooking up with some grateful pretty lady you saved after me, but I know you were too busy shovelling rocks off the tracks!”</p><p>    He actually looked away, smiling and laughing nervously at her very forward remark. She was good at that, giving more than she got. But she was glad for it, because she didn’t want him to know how desperate her voice had sounded each time she’d called him over the radio when she was out of range. How the thought of getting through to him was what had pushed her to move forward and overcome whatever had been in her way. Why hadn’t she had sex with him yet? There was ample opportunity, they had nothing but time, had spent each night in the same bed. But there was something different here. Something she wanted to contemplate more, some reason why she didn’t want to jump in there too soon. Maybe because of what they’d been through together. What he’d done <em>for</em> her. That somehow, this needed more care and attention. And the way he’d conducted himself so far – respectful yet knowing when he could drop a flirtatious comment. She liked that. There wasn’t any pressure. There was time, she decided. Enough time to not rush into this and leave him as another notch on a belt. But seeing him there, in that t-shirt and joggers, riding out the banter like he was embarrassed by it – it made her want to jump him.</p><p>    There was a scream from the TV set that saved her from herself. She turned, pretending to be eager about what was on the screen just to get away from the exchange they’d just had. Given a little longer and she probably would’ve used his joke as an excuse to try something on him.</p><p>    “Here we go!” she said, matter of fact, Carlos sitting forward to get a good view. The monster went for the young man first, the editing sloppy, the fake blood looking like tomato sauce. They both watched with little horror as it started tearing him apart, eating parts of him, discarding other parts by throwing them on the hood of the car. The young lady, tits still out, screamed unconvincingly, not trying one bit to get into the driver’s seat and start the car. Jill’s heart sank, thinking on bodies she’d seen in cars, not wanting to contemplate the circumstances that had got them in there in the first place. Her heart skipped a beat, and she tried to hide it.</p><p>    Carlos watched blankly as the monster made a point of ogling at the young teenager. He frowned - this movie was getting worse - and he started zoning out out of embarrassment. To the point where it was just the flickering he was paying attention to; because he was paying more attention to her, trying to judge her response to what was going on on the TV, but also awkwardly aware that at some point she had moved in closer to him, and that they had nowhere else to be but close to each other.</p><p>    Like this was a date night movie that was going wrong.</p><p>    “I’m not feeling this...” she mumbled, finally opening up the room to options. He seized on it in a heartbeat.</p><p>    “Yeah...me neither,” he grunted as he leaned forward to snatch at the remote. “Why are the monsters always so horny in these films anyway?”</p><p>    He grinned as he said it, and she tried to laugh, but she was glad that that freak hadn’t been horny for her. It had been out for the kill, and there was no way she would’ve been able to convince him otherwise with her tits not to kill her. And she wouldn’t have wanted to either.</p><p>    “I’d make a tentacle joke here but...”</p><p>    Carlos huffed humorously to cover how shocked he’d been at her comment, but he remembered the way it had <em>plucked</em> that rocket out of the air with it. He didn’t want to think of what it could’ve done used offensively.</p><p>    Her face turned pensive, her eyes lowering from the TV. “I never told you. It tried to strangle me with one of those things...” Her voice trailed off, suddenly shaky fingers going to the neck. “I swore it was going to leave a bruise. Got one around my ankle from the same shit. It flipped me on my ass and tried to drag me to it. I can’t remember how I got away.”</p><p>    He let his fingers hover at the base of her neck, thinking of stroking it. But he didn’t. She continued talking.</p><p>    “That was how it got Mikhail. Tyrell. Impaled them both with that disgusting thing. Why the fuck didn’t it just do that to me and have done with it?”</p><p>    So that was how they’d died. He had hoped for something better, something quick for them both. Maybe one day he’d ask her for the full details. Maybe before they parted ways.</p><p>    “It liked the chase. Liked toying with you. It would’ve tossed me aside as well to get to you. I have no doubt.”</p><p>    “I’m sorry, Carlos,” she said, simply.</p><p>    “No. Thank you. For keeping it away from me.” he replied, trying to make it sound as warm as he could.</p><p>    “It only delayed the inevitable...” she whispered, resigned to it.</p><p>    He wanted to hold her, just as much as she wanted to be held and comforted. She cupped her head in her hands, her elbows resting on her knees. She let her eyes tune into the TV screen; the monster dragging away the clearly half eager busty heroine to her fate. She tutted loudly.</p><p>    “This is bullshit. Gimme that!” She plucked the remote away from his grasp, angrily pushing at the buttons, only able to turn it to static.</p><p>    “Here,” Carlos offered, taking it back from her, noticing that her hands were still trembling. He looked at her, at her chest heaving, hair follicles raised as she was barely managing to hide what he knew was another panic attack. She ducked her head, letting her hair fall forward so she could shy away from his gaze as she got her shit together. He didn’t press her about it - the talk of that <em>carachimba </em>must’ve brought it on for her.</p><p>    It had been barely three days since he’d watched her nearly die like a gladiator in an arena, facing what that thing had become, immobilised zombies scratching at her ankles like big cats on chains. He’d watched in desperation as it had run her down, how she clambered to safety, managed to send three mine rounds its way causing it to retreat. The bastard had taken refuge on one of the industrial outlets and he had slammed his hand on the crane controls so hard, willing it to smash the fucker to oblivion. It hadn’t worked, but it had broken the outlet, bathing it in acid. That had given him enough time to line up the next attempt. One that had hit it square in the face as she’d helplessly peppered its gaping jaw with handgun bullets.<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>    When he'd seen her climb to safety, he’d wanted to hold her, to tell her how his heart had almost stopped at the thought of her dying, how...</p><p>    Carlos locked those thoughts away. Here. He was here for her. But not in the way he was thinking of or expecting. That would be taking advantage, and he was full of nothing but respect for her.</p><p>    “You okay?” he asked gently, hesitantly. She looked back at him, her eyes registering, her body looking as if it was coming back to her.</p><p>    “I don’t know what okay is right now,” She gasped back, and she resisted to urge to push herself to him, not wanting to complicate this. It had been three days. Three days since she had nearly died – several times – three days since she’d woken up in that hospital room with sewn up wounds and a bandage around her upper arm. Three days in which the muscle there hadn’t ceased to cause her pain and panic her in the middle of the night.</p><p>    Three days since she’d run after <em>him</em> into that hospital basement to help save the city.</p><p>    “Jill…”</p><p>    “Yes,” she sighed. “I’m okay now. Can I have some of that water?”</p><p>    “Sure,” he answered, passing the half empty glass to her. She downed all of it in one go, wiping the spillage from the corners of her mouth. When she put the glass down it made a clang that had her jumping involuntarily, sending a fresh wave of goose bumps up her arms, her nipples in pointed peaks through her t-shirt. He tried not to look, clearing his throat and quickly diverting his attention to the remote still in his large palm, trying to calmly put it on a channel with something more favourable on.</p><p>    “You still wanna watch a movie?”</p><p>    She blew out a shaky breath. “Yeah.” The word came out sounding fragile, exhausted, and he wanted to place a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Yeah,” she said more forcefully. “Just as long as it’s not some shitty horror movie.” She thought for a bit. “A rom-com. If one is on.”</p><p>    “Rom-com?” He asked, bewildered.</p><p>    “Um…” She still wasn’t fully there, wiping what he knew were tears from her eyes as she hastily tried to think about the answer to his question. “Rom-com. You know where a couple get together and they do nothing but talk sweet shit and get into silly situations? I need some escapism. And if that shit isn’t escapism, I don’t know what is!”</p><p>    “Ah! <em>Comedia romantica!</em> I get it. My <em>mamá</em> loves that shit.”</p><p>    That comment made her smile inside. So, he had family, somewhere, still alive.</p><p>    He doubled down, flicking through the channels again. He was right, there weren’t many to choose from, unless one of them wanted to go to the kiosk and buy minutes for one of the adult channels. And as much as she might have if she was here by herself, it probably wasn’t the appropriate thing to do now. She half hid her face behind her hair as she watched him, the concentration on his face at the task given to him. There were long pauses between each channel change, like he was silently vetting each before moving on.</p><p>    “There you go!” He exclaimed, triumphantly, like a boy who had pleased his mother. “<em>Comedia romantica!</em> Well, it looks like one anyway!”</p><p>    Happy with himself he let out a satisfied huff, reclining back into the sofa and getting comfortable. Jill watched him until she couldn’t get away with it anymore. She focused on the screen; It was a winter scene, New York, Times Square. The usual idealistic view of the city and a young couple walking along a street holding hot drinks, a stupidly sweet interaction where he bought her a balloon. She snorted a little, wondering if women really fell for that kind of stuff.</p><p>    “What?”</p><p>    “Think a balloon like that would impress me?”</p><p>    “Not one bit. I’d get you a BFG – <em>Big. Fucking. Gun</em>!”</p><p>    She laughed out loud at that one. “I don’t think the cops would appreciate me carrying that around NYC!”</p><p>    “They would if they’d seen what you could do with one!”</p><p>    He hadn’t seen her use that rail gun, at the end. But he’d felt the rumble of the first shot as he’d waited for the lift to come back down after Nicholai had ridden it. He’d heard that thing roar, and the only thing that kept him from running back to certain death with her was the thought that he could still save the city. To make a difference. To achieve some part of the briefing he’d be sent in with.</p><p>    Because in the end, that’s all he’d had to hold onto.</p><p>    Carlos sighed, turning to rest up against the end of the sofa, he brought his legs up into the void between them.</p><p>    “I’d like to go there someday. Probably not when it’s so cold though. Here is cold enough.”</p><p>    She looked at him, noticing that he had goose bumps now, the bruises that ran up his arms, the bandage over those D.I.Y. stitches on his forearm. “Want me to go grab your hoodie?”</p><p>    “Nah. I’m okay,” he replied simply.</p><p>    All this talk of the cold had her body reacting involuntarily too, and she crossed her arms over her chest to stop the flush there showing, waiting for it so dissipate. He was drumming his toes on the seat absently as he watched the montage of an awkwardly cute date.</p><p>    “Hey, quit it!” she chided, flicking her head to him.</p><p>    “Quit what?”</p><p>    “Your toes, they’re fidgeting!” She smiled, a smile that suddenly warmed him up.</p><p>    “Ah, they get restless when I can’t stretch out.”</p><p>    She shifted forward in the seat, “So stretch out then!”</p><p>    “It’s okay, really.” He hesitated, but she gave him a look he had to obey, and he did as he was told, his fully stretched out legs reaching the other side of the sofa. She looked uncomfortable perched on the end of the seat, but she didn’t complain.</p><p>    “Hey. Lemme sit up. You look uncomfortable.”</p><p>    Her eyes had blanked out from the images on the screen, her lids suddenly heavy.</p><p>    “It is colder. I have a better idea.”</p><p>    He didn’t know where that comment had come from, but then he noticed the couple on the TV were settled down in front of an open fire, the view being blocked by her as she made to lie down next to him. He hastily pushed himself into the sofa as much as he could, making sure there was enough room for her. She’d brought the cushion from her side of the sofa with her and wedged it behind his shoulder before settling down with her back to him, but she was so warm, and for a little while they continued to watch the movie, gently huffing at a sweet joke made between its heroes.</p><p>    A while later she turned into him, his chest warm and wide, comfortable to rest up against. She didn’t say anything, she just wanted to be there for now, and she hugged her arms to herself, lest they gave away that she wanted to put her arms around him.</p><p>    He wasn’t as cautious, bringing his broad shoulder out from under her head and cradling her with his arm, pulling her closer, kidding himself that it was so she didn’t topple off the sofa as she slept. He secured her with a hand clasped at her waist, and if it bothered her, she didn’t complain. He looked down timidly, watching her face, scratched and bruised, her full lips parted as she breathed gently and shallowly. She’d fallen asleep already, and he wasn’t about to ruin it for her.</p><p>    Carlos rested his head on his other arm brought above his head, because if he let it linger closer to her he’d end up with both of them around her. It wasn’t long before his eyes too, one heavily bruised and still swollen, were forced shut against the tiredness that had caught up with them.</p><p>    They lay there, silently sleeping, warmth and comfort between them. And when the channel on the TV ended its broadcast, the cold flickering in the room faded into static.</p><p>
  
</p><p>Art by Downydatura. Please visit her <a href="https://manambart.tumblr.com/">art blog</a>!</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Translation:<br/>- <i>Carachimba</i> / (Colombian slang.) “Fuck face” (lit. dick face)<br/>- <i>Comedia romantica</i> / Romantic comedy</p><p>Thank you for reading!<br/>You can find some more Jill Valentine and Carlos Oliveira related art on my tumblr and twitter - @jeannedarcprice</p></blockquote></div></div>
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